March 2016. The Premier League was in a state of shock. Everton was top, five points clear of a fading Leicester City. But for Elias Thorne, the league table was a distraction. The real game was being played in a dimly lit hotel suite in Monte Carlo.
Elias wasn't there to watch the Grand Prix. He was there for a sixteen-year-old with a buzzcut and a smile that would one day haunt every defender in Europe.
Kylian Mbappé.
In this timeline, Mbappé had only just made his debut for Monaco. He was a whisper, a talent known only to the most elite scouts. To the rest of the world, he was a nobody. To Elias, he was the crown jewel of the next decade.
The Financial Short
To buy a player like Mbappé—and to bypass the Financial Fair Play (FFP) traps that were starting to close in—Elias needed a war chest that even his current millions couldn't provide. He needed billions.
He sat at his laptop, the blue light reflecting in his tired eyes. He was looking at the 2016 market trends. The Brexit vote was months away. In the original timeline, the Pound had plummeted.
"Sell," Elias muttered, his finger hovering over the mouse. "Short the Sterling. All of it."
He was betting against the British economy. If he was right—and he knew he was—the profit would be enough to buy not just Mbappé, but the stadium he played in. It was a cold, mercenary move that would make him the most hated man in the City of London, but Elias Thorne didn't care about being liked. He cared about being the best.
The Monaco Negotiation
The meeting with Mbappé's family was different from the others. There were no flashy agents, no scotch, no power plays. Just a mother and father who wanted the best for their son.
"Mr. Thorne," Fayza Lamari, Kylian's mother, said, her eyes searching his. "Real Madrid has called. Zidane himself has called. Why should my son go to Liverpool's neighbor?"
Elias smiled. He didn't show them a highlight reel. He showed them a tactical map of the year 2018.
"In two years, your son will lead France to a World Cup," Elias said. The room went silent. "If he goes to Madrid now, he will sit behind Cristiano Ronaldo and Gareth Bale. He will be a 'prospect.' If he comes to me, I will build a team of speed and transition that will make him the youngest Ballon d'Or winner in history."
He leaned forward, dropping his voice. "I am not just a manager. I am a man who knows the path. I know every goal he is going to score before he kicks the ball. I will protect him from the injuries, the burnout, and the ego. I will give him the world, four years ahead of schedule."
Kylian, sitting in the corner, looked up. "You know the goals I will score?"
"I know the one you'll score in the final in Moscow," Elias whispered. "The one from outside the box. Low, left corner. Unstoppable."
The boy's eyes widened. The "Prophet" had struck again.
The Boardroom Betrayal
While Elias was in Monaco, the shadows back in Liverpool were moving.
Bill Kenwright was a dreamer, but the other board members were businessmen. They saw Elias's "erratic" financial moves and his secret scouting trips as a liability. They had been approached by a shadowy consortium—one with ties to the traditional "Big Six"—who wanted Elias out before he permanently broke the hierarchy of English football.
Elias's phone buzzed as he walked out of the Monaco hotel. It was a "Urgent Board Meeting" notification for the following morning.
He looked at the message, then at the contract in his pocket—signed by the Mbappé family, pending a world-record fee for a teenager.
"They think they're sacking a manager," Elias said to the salty Mediterranean air. "They don't realize they're trying to fire the man who owns the future."
The Showdown
The next morning, the Everton boardroom was cold.
"Elias," one of the directors began, "we have concerns about the 'Mbappé Project.' £60 million for a sixteen-year-old? It's madness. The FA is already investigating your currency trades. We think it's best if we… part ways. Professionally."
Elias didn't sit down. He tossed a single document onto the table.
"That is a buyout clause," Elias said. "Not for a player. For the club. My short on the Sterling just cleared. I didn't just make enough to buy Kylian Mbappé. I made enough to buy Everton Football Club. Twice."
He looked around the room, his eyes like flint. "You aren't firing me. I'm firing you. Pack your things. The new owner of this club arrives in five minutes. And he's bringing a kid from Monaco with him."